


The Orcadian

by Cerdic519



Series: When In Brome [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Elizabethan Era, Beach Sex, Boats and Ships, Brome - Freeform, Caring, Clothing Kink, Gay Sex, Happy Ending, Love, Love at First Sight, M/M, Nudity, Religion, Romance, Scotland, Spanish Armada
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-16 14:13:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18693148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: An Elizabethan Brome fic. Captain Bronn Blackwater lives a quiet life away from it all in the Aberdeenshire port of Fraserburgh, Scotland, where he trains up sailors for His Majesty King James The Sixth's fleet. But the aftermath of the Spanish Armada results in his having to travel nearly a hundred miles to the Orkney Islands, where he meets possibly the most striking Viking ever.Jaime Lannister had long settled into a quiet life on eastern Shapinsay, where only his irksome sister Cersei ever disturbs his peace and quiet when she comes over from Kirkwall (bastard ferryman has so far refused to throw her overboard!). But the advent of a rugged captain of the Royal Scots Navy offers an escape route – and if the price of that escape is lots of hard hot sex, Jaime supposes that he can cope with that. Just about.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yeonhorang](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeonhorang/gifts), [Ren_chan_the_otaku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ren_chan_the_otaku/gifts).



**September 1588**

Captain Bronn Blackwater stared incredulously at the messenger while his brain quickly processed what his news meant for both him and Scotland.

“You sure?” he asked. It just seemed.... impossible. The fellow nodded.

“Queen Elizabeth dispatched the news to her cousin the king once victory was certain”, he said. “The so-called 'Fortunate Armada' was mauled off the Dutch coast and is broken. Little in the way of ammunition, even less in the way of supplies and fresh water. Her ships have pulled back but are still barring the Channel, so they will have to head north.”

Bronn knew what that meant. Over one hundred and thirty ships full of foreigners desperate for somewhere – anywhere – to land and gather supplies before making the difficult trip back to Spain. It went without saying that King James would close his ports to them – Bronn was sure that had been part of the deal struck the year before when the king's conniving mother Mary Queen of Scots had finally been put to death for plotting against her English host once too often, her son raising only the feeblest of protests – and that James' actions would help his open ambition of succeeding Elizabeth one day especially as she was more than three decades his senior. But Scotland's coastline was both long and exposed, let alone the many islands off her coast where the royal writ was only observed if an official happened to be in the area. 

Then there was that perennial problem, religion. The Reformation had left the country officially Protestant but the Old Faith still dominated in the North. That was reflected in this area, where the royal burgh of Fraserburgh was a Protestant outpost in a sea of Catholicism, including the villages around Bronn's own cottage where it was practised openly. Not that he bothered himself about religion except when it interfered with his work, but the Catholics on board those battered ships would surely expect some assistance if they could make it to land. There would likely be trouble – and he would likely be the one to have to deal with it.

MDLXXXVIII

**October 1588**

Bronn was not surprised when the report came in exactly one week later. Two Spanish ships had sailed into Kirkwall Harbour in the Orkney Islands and were terrorizing the local populace. Bronn's official post was head of training but unluckily the Northern Squadron commander had been sent across to Copenhagen on a prolonged goodwill mission following the recent accession of young King Christian the Fourth, the Danes having some years back inherited both the Norwegian throne and that country's old claim to the Northern Isles earlier in the century. Hence it fell to Bronn to take the _'Arbroath'_ , the _'Clansman'_ and the _'Damson'_ north to deal with the enemy. Fortunately all the sailors had pretty much completed their training and he felt confident as he headed into the icy northern waters.

The battle was fierce but short, the Spaniards still badly damaged from both their war wounds and their flight after Gravelines, and soon one of the enemy ships was lying at the bottom of the bay while the other had been towed into Kirkwall harbour where the locals would doubtless strip it bare in hours. Bronn decided to allow his sailors a few days to celebrate in a grateful town and took some time off himself. It was a pleasant enough place and it was hard to believe that it had only been part of Scotland for barely a century, although the fact many of the people still spoke Norse rather than Scots reminded him. But whatever their tongue they were grateful for his advent and he looked forward to enjoying that 'gratitude'.

It was not to work out quite as he expected.

MDLXXXVIII


	2. Chapter 2

Bronn's 'holiday' was curtailed the following morning when he had to take a ship across the bay to Shapinsay, after learning that the Spaniards had landed raiding-parties before the battle. They caught up with the enemy on the eastern side of the almost empty island; thankfully the Iberians took one look at the force coming against them and promptly surrendered. Bronn sent the captives back to the ship and let some of the men enjoy the hospitality of the nearby village which, praise be, actually had a tavern. These Orcadians certainly had their priorities right!

He was sat outside said tavern watching the boats return when his First Officer came up. It quietly amused Bronn that virtually all the men under him thought that he had young Macbeth 'under' him, despite the fact that that the fellow was happily married with five children the second of whom Bronn was godfather to. The captain allowed that illusion because he had raised the talented fellow up from cabin-boy and he knew that that sort of thing was often resented, and although the fellow's orders were followed it helped that the men knew anyone who failed to do so quickly enough would shortly after have an 'interview' with the captain that would likely lead to them being thrown out of the Navy. And likely off the ship while it was sailing; Bronn was not known for his patience.

“I've been looking around the place, sir”, Macbeth said politely (for a tar Bronn often thought he sounded like he took elocution lessons on the sly). “One of the Spaniards claimed that two of his officers went inland to look at some old standing stone.”

“Why'd they do that?” Bronn asked.

“Perhaps they're into history”, Macbeth suggested. “I thought I might head that way just to make sure, or at least check in at that last cottage.”

He gestured to where a solitary cottage lay mostly hidden by a small hill at the back of the village, only the top of its rook and a smoking chimney giving it away. Bronn could see his point; anyone heading inland would have had to have passed the place. He noted his officer looking longingly at the tavern door and bit back a smile.

“I'll go myself”, he said. “You have a drink, then tell the men back on ship that we'll have a couple more days in Kirkwall so they don't feel cheated. We'll leave when I get back.”

Macbeth nodded and Bronn finished his own drink before heading inland.

MDLXXXVIII

Once over the hill Bronn could easily see the single standing stone in the distance. The land around was completely flat and there was no sign of any enemy (unless they were both hiding behind the damn stone!) but he decided to make sure anyway. He knocked at the door of the cottage.

About five seconds later he was amazed he could still stand up considering where most of his blood had rushed to. The door was opened by the most beautiful man he had ever seen! A couple of inches taller than the captain and about twenty years of age, he had long dark-blond hair that tumbled carelessly over his shoulders, a lantern-jawed face and a wary expression.

Oh, and he was stark naked. That small – well, actually rather large - detail was arguably important. 

The Adonis looked at him for a moment then smiled. Something in Bronn died, and he had a bad feeling that it was his manliness.

“Er”, he managed.

“Thank God you're here!” the fellow said fervently, turning to pick up some trousers and giving Bronn a view that did precisely nothing to remedy matters. “Take me with you, please!”

Somewhere in another world there was a Captain Blackwater to whom all this made perfect sense. Bronn wished he could change places with the fellow. Then again, the view here was pretty good.

“Er”, he managed again. He was never that much of conversationalist, but with beauty personified in front of him he had apparently been reduced to an even more limited vocabulary than usual. “Who're you?”

Two words in a sentence. He was quite proud of that.

“Jaime Lannister”, the Adonis said. “I live alone but my ghastly sister Cersei keeps coming over from Kirkwall, and people would likely be annoyed if I went and shot her. Please say you'll take me with you!”

Alone. Gorgeous. Bronn had surely died and gone to Heaven, especially when the now (sadly) clothed Adonis caught onto his reactions and smiled. 

“I'm sure I can be of some use to you, Captain....?”

It took Bronn probably several seconds too long to realize he was meant to say something there.

“Blackwater”, he managed, again quite proud he could remember something so obscure. Captain Bronn Blackwater, of the Royal Scots Navy.”

Jaime smiled, and Bronn could feel himself getting hard on that alone. It was going to be a very difficult journey back to the mainland.

“Well, _Captain Bronn Blackwater”_ , Jaime said, sidling up to him, “I'm sure that an officer like yourself needs a servant around the place.”

“I've always lived alone”, Bronn gasped, his voice suddenly and inextricably high as he felt the heat from the younger man's body. “Small cottage by a beach.”

“Excellent!” Jaime grinned. “I like to swim naked by the way. Let's go!”

He led the way out, and what was left of Bronn's brain eventually managed to send a message down to his legs that they should follow him. He just about managed that onerous task. Just.

MDLXXXVIII


	3. Chapter 3

Bronn arrived back to the news that enemy troops had been seen at exactly the other end of the island, across the bay from Kirkwall. The _'Arbroath'_ duly sailed round and Bronn took two boats ashore but found nothing, so sent ship and sailors back to Kirkwall – a row-boat was actually faster than the ship in the sheltered harbour – and kept Jaime with him and the other boat.

Because.

”Where _do_ you live exactly?” Jaime asked as Bronn rowed them back, the other boat having already disappeared into the distance with six men rowing (all of whom had been smirking quite unnecessarily). The younger man was sprawled back at the other end of the boat, had taken his top off and was bare-chested in a way that was doing nothing to help matters, let alone his sly smiles downwards to where The Bronnster was clearly eager for action.

“Stop it!” Bronn growled.

“Stop what?” Jaime asked innocently. “Is my master cross with me?”

Bronn just glared at him.

“I have a place some way west of Fraserburgh”, he said. “I train sailors; it's rare I put to sea but we're stretched with the commander being away.”

Jaime smiled at him. Bronn's heart skipped a beat.

“Mind the island”, Jaime said, gesturing to where a small island about three hundred feet long lay in their path. “Captain?”

Bronn grinned and continued to pull on the oars until they ran ashore on the northern tip of the small island. Jaime helped him pull the boat clear of the water, clearly nonplussed – until Bronn turned to him.

“Right”, he said testily. “You want to be my servant? Well, servants obey their masters in everything, my boy – so get those clothes off!”

Jaime grinned and mock-saluted.

“Sir, yes sir!”

MDLXXXVIII

”Wow! Just..... wow!”

Bronn smiled as Jaime lay beside him, gasping for breath. They were both covered in sand and a sight for sore eyes, but both were grinning widely.

“Can't believe you did that with your tongue”, Jaime managed. “Your First Officer was right; you're a perverted bastard.”

Bronn sat up sharply.

“You spoke with Mac?” he demanded. Jaime smiled slyly.

“Aye”, he said. “He told me everything about you; how you protect him from the men and let them think he's your lay, and how you help him with his family back home. And that you've never taken advantage of any of the men under you even when they offered. I found that difficult to believe but having met you I can see it now. You're just too damn noble.”

Bronn blushed.

“Don't recall you calling me a nob when I had my dick in your arse just now”, he deflected. “Mac's right though; I would never do it with any of my men. They're entrusted to me and it would be wrong. What they do with each other is their own business provided it doesn't interfere with the running of the ship, and what I do off duty was mine; I never break a trust. I was offered a promotion in return for sex one time but I refused it, which was why I got sent down to training. Though it suited me well enough.”

Jaime chuckled, then rolled over to pull Bronn closer. 

“And does master believe in receiving as much as giving?” Jaime teased.

“Christians believe that it is better to give than to receive”, Bronn quipped.

“That thing with your tongue was hardly Christian”, Jaime pointed out.

“Aye”, Bronn said. “I'm sure I can find you some work in Fraserburgh or thereabouts when we get back.”

“I'll be spending most of my time looking after my saviour”, Jaime said. “You're beautiful, you know.”

Bronn looked around the beach but no. They were still alone.

“Come again?” he said incredulously. “As my late and unmissed father said more than once, I've a face like a bag of spanners that's been thrown downstairs. Several times over.”

“But you saved me”, Jaime said. “You asked before taking me. And you treated the men under you with the sort of respect they deserve but would hardly ever get from anyone else. Not to to mention you landed yourself with a complete stranger who would be a serial killer for all you knew.”

Bronn looked at him askance.

“Just for that I'm gonna fuck you again”, he said shortly.

“No objection to that!” Jaime said cheerfully, rolling himself face down. “But try to make yourself felt this time.”

“Why you cheeky little.....”

MDLXXXVIII


	4. Chapter 4

Bronn scowled at his lover. The younger man's eyes twinkled as he surveyed the small craft.

“You named your boat after your dick?” Jaime said amusedly.

“The _'Bronnster'_ is a fine craft”, Bronn said not at all testily, “and saves me a sixteen mile round walk. Besides, I like sailing.”

“We'll have to try sex in it one day”, Jaime said absentmindedly, causing his lover to nearly trip and fall into the vessel. Bronn scowled at him.

“You think of nothing but sex”, he sighed.

“Aye”, Jaime agreed. “'Aint life grand?” 

Bronn just shook his head at him.

MDLXXXVIII

“Very nice and private”, Jaime said once they had reached his bay and pulled the boat safely up the beach. “Hopefully the folks in the village won't be able to hear you scream unless the wind's in the right direction.”

Bronn would have gainsaid him but, the bastard having stripped off on the boat and then sat there while his lover tried to steer and not have an aneurysm, he had a strong feeling that he would indeed be screaming. That 'thing' had to have been at least eight inches and that was before it was hard. Perhaps he had better wait.....

“Why not test that right now?” his traitorous mouth suggested.

Jaime grinned and led him a short distance along the beach to where, approximately ten minutes later, Bronn was screaming like he had never screamed before.

Damn boy had been right. But he had no need to smirk like that!

MDLXXXVIII


	5. Epilogue

**April 1603**

“You do know that seeing you in that sexy uniform just makes me want to get you out of it again?”

Bronn sighed and rolled his eyes at his insatiable lover as his boy – thirty-six now to Bronn's forty-five but still his boy – lay naked on their huge bed, gently stroking his huge cock. 

Work was a bastard at times!

“I have a meeting with the Navy Board”, he sighed. “And I doubt they'd accept 'my sex maniac of a lover made me late by unfairly using his hot body to tempt me' as an excuse.”

Jaime just batted his eyelashes at his lover.

“Sure?” he asked teasingly. “Those leather boots make me so hard!”

“It being a Tuesday makes _you_ hard, you horny cunt”, Bronn smiled, And I can't be late after they went and made me Admiral of the whole damn Scottish fleet. With the king away in England I'll have a free hand in making it one of the best navies in Europe.”

“All that work will make you even more stressed”, Jaime pointed out, still stroking his cock and smiling at his lover's suddenly rapid breathing. “But at least you have an obliging lover who will let you come home and fuck the living daylights out of him. Assuming someone your age can still manage it, o' course.”

Bronn's eyes narrowed and he looked at the clock on the mantle-piece. Fifteen minutes to get to Leith seafront and he still had nearly thirty. More than enough time to fuck the sass out of the horny cunt. 

Barely a minute later he had said horny cunt's legs folded right back over his head as he fucked his claim into him again. That'd teach him!

He had to wipe his uniform down after Jaime had very deliberately come all over it, the cunt. And to change into the looser trousers before leaving, though. Still, definitely worth it!

FINIS


End file.
